


Star Wars: The Lost Trooper

by Heauxcode



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Action, Black Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Female Character of Color, Origin Story, Original Character(s), Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9907688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heauxcode/pseuds/Heauxcode
Summary: Esteemed pilot QZ-4575 has worked diligently to preserve her integrity as a Storm Trooper all her life. When a certain Resistance fighter escapes with the help of one of her own, the otherwise obedient trooper sets out to capture them. To her  misfortune, her impulsive decision has marked her an enemy of the First Order. Will this bold Storm Trooper fulfill her mission and redeem herself, or will she make a choice that will change the course of her destiny forever?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty new to SW, but I loved Finn so much that I was inspired to write a fic about him. This is the beginning of part 1 of this story line. It will be a slow burn, mostly to give time for the OC to flesh out, but because I tried to tie the protagonist's story into the original story of TFA, some things are a little more fast paced Please be sure to leave a comment and let me know of any criticisms you might have. Thanks!

The cold void of space never felt so barricaded. Time was a luxury that two unlucky troopers could not afford in their hot pursuit of a getaway TIE-Fighter. The universe was many things, namely unpredictable. But a fleeing agent of the First Order seemed less likely than any turn of event; how could this have happened?

One of their own troopers and the Rebel pilot Poe Dameron fled Lord Ren’s ship, trailing behind damaged machinery and injured men. It was an impulsive decision to chase after them in another flycraft, but it seemed to be their only fighting chance to obtain the escapees. Phasma surely would not take well to wasted resources to capture one of their own, so the fly craft zipping through space were manned with wrought-iron tension that plagued the ships’ pilots. Laser canons unloaded on the hijacked ship, but it was little use. The traitor pilot and resistance fighter were almost too good at piloting a ship that couldn't have been familiar to them. The other TIE fighter ejected in pursuit of them had a lot on their plate.

“They're going to break the exosphere -- they're going back to Jakku!” Pilot DP-1284 shouts out as they wove around emerald beams. The explosion of a neighboring ship cannon tossed stray parts in a frenzy that threw their ship off course. Pilot DP-1284 and their co-pilot gripped their controls to withstand the turbulence. Flashing lights buzzed and erred while the storm troopers tried to recover control of the rotating spacecraft.  
“We can't let that happen!” The other pilot shouted with determination. Pilot QZ-4575 grappled with a series of gears and cranks, focusing on the craft that had evaded countless laser blasts and had even destroyed several of their own canons in the process. The co-pilot was right -- they were shooting straight back to the planet at an alarmingly rate. Pilot QZ-4575 understood that this was their last chance at apprehending the traitor; any other storm pilots coming after them would be too far behind, lessening their chances of apprehending the traitor and bringing him back to base. They had to do something.

QZ-4575 rotated the fire canon and waited as the barrel rolled into frame before ejecting several red-hot beams into space, ignoring the protest of DP-1284 and the erratic jerk and push of their unstable ship. Warnings blared from the intricate systems build within the ship. The stormtrooper ignored it, realigning the shot before firing at the TIE-Fighter again. They waited. Smoke and debris billowed out miles ahead -- the ship was hit.

“Full speed ahead!” Quick to act QZ-4575 urged their failing ship forward, hoping to shorten the distance between themselves and the escapees. The ship was tilted off its natural balance, and the occasional quake of the interior grew into a violent tremor that gripped the entire ship.

“We've broken the thermosphere. We're coming in too hot.” The emboldened trooper ignored the co-pilot, their black visor filtering the sight of the plummeting ship ahead of them as their own was slowly dismantling. “QZ -- brace for impact! Brace for impact!”


	2. Collateral Damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Stormtrooper continues the chase on Jakku.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! Thanks for reading. Be sure to like and comment!

The abyss of star-burnt sand grew as they fell into the planet's atmosphere until it was the embrace of their crash site. Their space ship tumbled through the terrain, lessening in parts as bolts and scrap metal until the only remaining piece intact was the cockpit. There was a moment of distortion post-impact. QZ-4575 fought dulled senses to undo the seat belt and fell out of the chair. Despite their vision fading in and out, the trooper managed to stagger on their feet. Checking the pit, it was clear to see that there wasn't anything to salvage. They found their way across the ship to where an unresponsive copilot laid in their seat. The Stormtrooper carefully removed the helmet. Their co-pilot’s eyes were only halfway open. Fresh blood trickled down a nostril. Two fingers to his neck determined an absent pulse. QZ-4575 stalled, brushing DP-1284’s eyes shut before forcing themselves to move along. They ignored the sinking feeling in their stomach to retrieve a blaster pistol and kicked the sealed door until it gave way, stepping out into the desert.

Though several yards away, they could see it. The craft they successfully managed to shoot out of space. And standing before it, the Stormtrooper could make out a white-dressed figure, seeming to fuss and fumble around the spacecraft until the ship fell into the depths of the desert itself. The rebel trooper was startled, and seemed conflicted before turning and trekking off. QZ-4575’s core throbbed anxiously. They started ahead with their blaster in tow. The traitor was far, but as long as they remained in sight QZ-4575 could follow them until they undoubtedly stumbled upon a local watering hole.

* * *

The journey was harsh. The hot star rays beat down on the storm troopers armor unforgivably. How much more could they bare, following the traitor soldier at a safe yet view-able distance in such conditions? One had prepared for combat, for an outer space brawl between who was the most cunning with their ship and its weaponry, but not a long journey through a vacant desert. Watching the traitor peel out of his gear made QZ-4575 hot with anger. Hot enough to almost forget where they were. Not certain if their skin could bear the sweltering heat, the trooper opted to remain fully armored and carried on.

A shred of patience was the troopers saving grace. It was no metropolis, but a town center had finally arrived before the both of them, shading its visitors with a dusted red awnings and block buildings. While the runaway trooper stumbled hastily ahead, QZ-4575 lurched over, finally removing the cracked and dusted helmet. Frizzed coils spilled out of the protective gear and a speechless mouth heaved and gasped. The air was thick and gritty, but the soldier inhaled as if it were angel’s breath. Fingers pried into the slips of the white gear and moved impetuously to undo their structure until a woman stood before the junkyard town in nothing but boots and a black body glove. She swiped at her face, concealed her blaster, and stormed ahead.

Clusters of people wove in and out of the town center, hauling piles of scrap metal and other tradeable goods to salvage. The contrast of smell from her normal artificially chilled atmosphere clouded around her and she gagged. QZ-4575 held her breath and her eyes swept over the throngs of people. He had changed into a brown jacket. The very one that belonged to the Resistance fighter, if her memory served her right. That familiar brown leather peeks at her briefly before disappearing behind a colorful wall of celestials that fill the market. She makes a bee-line for him.

Momentarily losing him hadn't perturbed her -- this particular trooper was persistent, and wouldn't be bested. She slowed her pace considerably, looking over the crowds at the man whose head bobbed in a pan of water beside an adult happabore. Having been so in the open, the storm trooper draws back and continues to watch him. A dizzy spell weakened her, and she held onto the nearest post for support. As repulsive as that splashing water must have tasted, the sight of it made her dry mouth more prominent. She squeezed her eyes, unaware of the passing time.

Bodies large and small brushed against her, muttering complaints about her obstructing the path in their native tongues. They go in and out with her evasive consciousness. There was a strong resilience in her, the same one that helped her to make it so far after such a painful trek through the wastelands, and it slowly urges her to wake up. It didn’t help that something was tugging at her clothes. She opened her eyes. A small creature fumbled with what would have been her pockets, inspecting her for goods.

“Hey!” Her voice startled them and they darted off. She pushes from the beam and stumbled back into the crowds. The pilot inhaled sharply, trying to get her wits about her. The traitor. He had disappeared. Scanning the crowds had revealed nothing. But an exchange of shouts could be heard, and she grapples the posts and tables to maze through the town center until finding her culprit again, this time in a tense exchange with what looked to be a desert traveler.

QZ-4575 carefully reached into the calf of her boot and retrieved her blaster, framing it in position to shoot in her trembling hands. They were perfectly framed inside the triangular scope. If she pulled the trigger now…

A panic slowly seeped into the atmosphere before the three of them took off and a spray of lasers followed them. Two storm troopers arrived on the scene with their blasters cocked, firing wildly at the fleeing trio. Relief broke the gripping anxiety in her chest and she rushed ahead with her remaining strength pushing her. “Hey! Soldier QZ-457-- Whoa!” A red light bursts from one of their blasters again. “Hold your fire! I’m one of you!”  
“We’re well aware of who you are, deserter.” The white suit on the left said.  
“Lady Phasma is not pleased with DP-1284 and your defiance. You will be apprehended as the traitor you are.” Said the other, hoisting his blaster in direct aim for her chest.  
“I went to retrieve him! The _real_ deceiver!” Her eyes narrowed. Disbelief mixed with dehydration and her head began to ache. QZ-4575 threw out her arms and her voice amplifies. “While you uninspired bucketheads sat prim on the ship one of our own and a _rebel prisoner_ escaped in one of our own damn TIE-Fighters! Where were you then?”  
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be! You can answer for your crimes back on the ship.”  
“Screw this,” The other Stormtrooper fired his blaster, and QZ-4575 evaded her death by a hair when she skirted to the side. “We were given orders to find you on this miserable planet, but keeping you alive was optional.”

The woman’s eyes widened. She knew it would take only half a second for them to take her down with one squeeze of their triggers. But she was quicker. Well-versed in combat. With her weapon already out she aims and fires twice, shooting a cloud of sand around them and uses the aversion to run ahead. Faintly, she could hear the impatient Stormtrooper exaggerating to base. _Inform Captain Phasma that QZ-4575 has resisted and opened fire._ She swore under her breath. Her options were dwindling.

The running burns her lungs, and she resists the urge to dry heave as well as the desire to collapse. QZ-4575 shoved through the crowds as much as she could as the debris and heat from barely-avoided lasers fly past her. Not too far ahead are the three oddly-paired figures gunning it as fast as she was. Catching up felt impossible with her current status, but as TIE fighters stormed in overhead and fired down on the outpost, she couldn’t very well afford to delay.

QZ-4575 had no reason for her methods or motives to be doubted, especially as a trooper who followed Phasma’s every order. She proved her loyalty countless times, even with her other moments of impulsiveness, but it was never misread for deceit. And now she was paying greatly for it.

She had to think fast -- the second to last salvageable ship had been obliterated before all of their eyes, and she was now marked a traitor and being hunted like one. There was no other place to run besides the old hunk of metal that was the Millennium Falcon. Who could be sure that thing would even turn on?

She makes a swift change of course and follows behind them, paced well enough to not be detected by the trio but swift enough to clamber up the entrance just as they all split, too rushed to even notice her board. She'd just have to find out.


	3. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's evaded one threat, and has found herself in the face of another. What now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this chapter is short I'll be publishing chapter four today, too. Thanks for reading!

The sound of laser canons firing relentlessly dulled somewhat. She could hear the former trooper and his new comrade shouting at each other, trying to synchronize as the ship noisily came to life and began to ascend. QZ-4575 had never been so grateful to be in an enemy craft. She couldn’t make it off Jakku alone. And if she were to redeem herself in any way, she’d have to actually complete her mission. This was her only chance.

The BB droids head rotated and spotted her immediately, and echoed a sound of alarm. Before it could go barreling towards what she guessed was the cockpit, they both lost their balance. Now airborne, the Falcon was whirling around at high speed, throwing the pilot and the BB droid around the belly of the ship. QZ-4575 could see the droid trying its best to scale the walls as they were flung about, and she scrambled as best she could to capture him.

“Get back here!” She barked in frustration, falling once again as the ship took a turn. The droid fell midair right after her. A loud clanking noise rang through the corridor and she swore to herself as the droid blared.

“There’s someone else on the ship!” The Stormtrooper. She thrust the ship forward, purposely jerking and rotating how she could to subdue whoever had followed them on-board.

QZ-4575 rolled and slammed around the interior of the ship before she managed to cling to the outer ridges of the metallic walls. The BB unit, several paces ahead of her, ejected three metal claws and stilled itself. Their standoff would have to wait until the entire crew escaped.

There was a final rotation of the ship before it was right-side up again. QZ-4575 let go and fell on her side, but quickly recovered when the BB unit was seen rolling down the corridor, exclaiming loudly. She recovered her blaster and began the arduous task of running again. This mission was becoming a maze. Her lungs felt like tattered paper bags. The muscles in her legs were on fire. It wasn't enough. The droid was escaping. Her stamina was betraying her.

It managed to spin itself right towards the intersecting hallways where the two pilots clambered towards. She crouched then dove for it. Exclaims of confusion surrounded her but not before successfully locking herself around the spherical droid. The two were looking right at her, baffled and high alerted. All of her on the field training and mission experience seemed to fly right out of her head. And suddenly she felt like a new recruit with zero tactical skill. What to do?

This tight stand-off was nerve-wracking. The woman, she noticed, had a staff. She also had one of her own seeming to side with her and appeared to be ready to take her down at any delay of her own strength. But their eyes -- both of them -- were fixed in the droid. Was there a glint of fear in them, hidden behind battle-ready faces? QZ-4575’s hand quickly drew her blaster and she shoved the barrel against the metal bot.   
The unit made several untranslatable noises, which seemed to catch the woman's attention. “Don't panic BB-8, it'll be alright.” The Sand Girl, she'd call her, gripped her staff still but her demeanor changed. She spared a half second glance at the man beside her. Her lips were tight.

“How did she get on the ship?” Sand Girl spaced her words out.  
He looked back at her, dubious. “How should I know?”

“You've got a lot of nerve doing what you did,” For the first time she speaks, and it startles the both of them. They glance at each other, then back to the ship’s intruder. “I'll be taking you back to answer for your crimes.” 

“Whatever it is that you're talking about, we can figure it out,” QZ-4575’s face scrunched up. _Was he serious?_ “But please, let go of the droid.”  
Her arm braced around the metal body even tighter. “Not a chance. Surrender your spacecraft to the Order and your punishment might be a humane one.”

Realization struck them both. Though she was taught with muscles and reflexive as a feline, her big eyes and long spirals of hair graced a face that couldn't have possibly been a vessel of an evil agenda. Her voice, down to the very accent, was steely. And it favored Phasma’s in a way that made Finn second guess if she was the one and only standing before them, unsuited.

As the two pilots of the Millennium Falcon deliberated between glances, the droid had managed to eject a small rod that was conveniently by her legs and zapped her. She immediately pushed him away and fell on her back. Now off-balanced, the ex-trooper kicked the blaster out her hand, and the Sand Girl pointed the end of her staff down to her face. It was the last thing she remembered seeing before a complete blackout swept her under.


	4. Touching Masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world isn't so black and white as she thought, but will Finn's answers be enough to satisfy her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter four! Please be sure to like an comment. I'd love to know what you think. Thanks for reading!

She dreamt of a sea of white masks. An occasional glint passed her eye, signaling Phasma’s. She saw Lord Ren’s. The hundreds of thousands of individual masks that she came to know in her short life, phasing in and out so fast that the small, telling details of imperfections weren't enough to discern them from each other. And then suddenly, his face appears, partly shielded by a broken helmet. And instead of anger burning her at the core, it was contempt. But for who? When his face faded away, another began to form, with sun-kissed skin like his, but the face details were blank. Empty. Who?

The question lingered on her lips as she slowly came to. She repeated it in spaces until realizing that she was mimicking the remnants of a dream. Her mouth was drier than before, if one could believe it. And sand grains seemed to cake her lashes shut, proving it difficult to open when she tried to inspect her surroundings. Her legs were still burning. Her lungs felt paper thin. _Not dead_ , she wagered. It crosses her mind briefly at how much easier that might have been as the colors of the room fill her eyes. Sounds follow. The ship was moving. Chattering voices were at the edge of her senses.

Sand Girl, BB-8 and the ex-trooper were huddled over something that was beneath the grated floor. She noticed that every time Sand Girl’s back turned, the ex-trooper would lean in, speaking hastily to the droid. A secret. There was something he was desperate to hide.

BB-8 mentioned something that the Sand Girl immediately translated. The Ileenium system. A lead on the Resistance. The droid had known where it was. This was the real reason the Order was hot on their trails. The ex-trooper and herself were clearly only war spoils.  
QZ-4575 made an attempt to move, and immediately felt fabric restraints on her wrists at her back. A spasm of pain flooded through her temples and she grunted. The party of three looked up at her, then back to each other. She could see the hard swallow the ex-trooper took before standing up and crossing over to stand before her.

She spoke into their shared silence. “You should have killed me.”  
The look of empathy was so foreign to her that it was insulting. He looked at her like a wounded pikk mukmuk. She hated it. “Enough people have died already.”  
“When they find us, that’s what they intend to do with you.”  
Sand Girl had no empathy. She looked up at the boy, grabbing a miscellaneous tool. “It's no use. You may as well gag her and leave her there.”  
He pressed his lips together, sighed through his nose, and crouched before her.  
“From what I've seen, and what you know, the Order won't take us as a trump to win them over.” Her back straightened. She turned away. “You're unsuited, probably un-stationed. . . You probably weren't cleared to even come here. Whatever your plan is, it won't work.”  
“I don't have a choice.”  
His eyes narrowed. “That's not true.”  
“You of all people --” Her words started slow, but strong. It filled the room with a dread that morphed his expression to the purest form of terror. She could see the girl's head peaking from the grated floors. And it hit her from a million directions. _They didn't know_.  
It came out of her mouth sooner than he could stop her. “Wouldn't understand what it's like, to not have a choice.”

The pilot’s lips parted. It could have been the change of her tone that softener his expression. QZ-4575’s eyes didn't linger to find out. His face, however, mixed with astonishment and relief. He went back to exchange a few words about their new destination before the girl went ahead to the front of the ship.

Silence. BB-8 lingered behind the ex-trooper, still intimidated by the girl. Standing so close, she notices how they nearly shared complexions. All that time behind masks, certain that there were no parallels to make between them. And when she did get a peek of the humans underneath, none came close to looking like she did. He crouched before her. 

“I don't understand.” He admitted, searching her face when she refused to look at him. She didn't either. But it didn't take long to come up with something.  
“I don't want her finding out the truth and killing both of us.” Self-interest. Of course.  
A beat. His hand touched her leg and her eyes quickly shot up at him. She had hoped that her eyes would intimidate him, that they would scream _“Back off,”_ but he was no coward. He was either stupid or relentlessly brave. Whatever the case, it was unnerving. “Thank you.”

“Why didn't you kill me?”  
His eyes flickered around the room, suddenly that firm resolve was beginning to fall away. “I'm not a killer.”  
She laughed dryly, head lolling. “As piss-poor of a trooper you are, you're still a trooper. Killing is what we do. Its probably the one thing we have in common.”  
“Sorry, I can't relate to that.”  
This made her laugh. When she saw no shift in his demeanor, she drew back, looking him up and down.   
“You're serious.”  
He didn't address her astonishment. “We may not share that in common, but I don't believe we're different from each other.”  
“I'm nothing like you.” Though a bit callous, she spoke to him with familiarity. They couldn't be the same, even with their origin. And now they were assumed to be on the same side. Still, what drove her to anger and what made her so impulsive as to chase him this far was the same confusion his choices sprouted in her own mind.  
“We've been forced to pledge allegiance since we were young. We've never, ever had a clue where we come from. Just used for terrible agendas. Dispensable. Predictable. You and I both went against orders. That's not uniform. Even if your reasons were different than mine, we have the same desire to be in control of ourselves. To choose.”  
“We don't have anyone. We're war criminals. They hate us. And they have every reason to.”  
“. . . You’re right. They do. They have every right to condemn us for our past. But I know there are others who are willing to forgive.” He may not have noticed it, but she watched the way his eyes impulsively gravitated towards the direction the Sand Girl disappeared in before looking at her once more. “What was your name?”  
 _Was?_ She leaned back, forcing a sliver of distance between them while eyeing him warily. “QZ-4575.”  
“ _Cue-zee_?” He seemed to deliberate for a bit, then looked up at her with a smile. “How about Quesye? It's probably not a very good name, but it's yours now. I'm Finn.”

She parroted the name. His name, then hers. This was unexpected. She expressed wanting him dead just a few moments ago and he responded with kindness. What was his deal? “Are names complimentary upon renouncing your rank?”  
He laughed. “I guess you could say that.”  
A mechanical hum surrounded them before the ship completely stopped. They all tilted their chins, glancing around for the source of what appeared to be some sort of power outage. This was an old ship, QZ -- no wait, Quesye -- reasoned that it finally gave out on them. It wouldn't have been surprising.

“Finn, we've got a problem,” The Sand Girl called out. Finn quickly got to his feet and met with her. BB-8 whirred and tentatively rolled to the furthest corner from Quesye. She narrowed her eyes at the droid before turning her attention to the voices carrying out of the cockpit. Their controls were disabled, and their ship was being pulled into an even larger ship. This was likely the First Order repossessing their space craft. She’d either be redeemed or accused. And she was confident that being tied off would work in her favor of not looking like a traitor herself, but the risk of being accused was too frightening.

The two rushed back inside the room, and Sand Girl hopped inside the open region of floor where she managed to seal the pipes. There was a slight overcast that dimmed the interior of the ship. A loud series of industrial-sized locks sealing off what Quesye guessed was the void of space. Finn had what appeared to be an oxygen mask in his hand, and was stumbling a bit, glancing back at Quesye and then the pit in the floor.

“We have to hurry!” Sand Girl shouted. Her eyes bounced between the two of them, and then his hand. “Finn, she’s a criminal! We don’t have time for this!”

He staggered, but finally made one of his many poor decisions of the day, clambering over to the lost trooper and reached around her, undoing her restraints. The freedom that filled her arms wasn’t enough strength; she had suffered a possible concussion after hours of dehydration. Any threat she posed wilted. Her weight fell into his chest and he grunted, not expecting her to be so heavy. Finn managed to gather the former formidable threat in his arms before jumping down with BB-8 and Rey despite her protests.

“You can’t be serious,” She hissed, lowering her tone as they both heard the sound of footsteps. Finn fumbled with his words, placing a mask over the woman’s nose and mouth. She was beginning to fade out again. Maybe the girl’s staff was too harsh a blow to her head. “Do you plan to nurse her back to health so that she’s well enough to try killing us?”  
“You could have killed her. So could I. But we didn’t, so why leave her out to die?”  
“We can’t save her.” Frustrated, she worked away at the very channeling system she worked so diligently to seal off. “We can hardly save ourselves.”  
“Shh!”

Something inside the tightly-enclosed space clanged against one of the metal pipes, making the girl and Finn wince. The steps stalled for a moment before growing louder as it approached their hiding ditch. The grate was removed, and three strangers with breathing masks stared up at a furred, towering beast and its human companion. Quesye’s confusion melded with their blurring images. She didn’t stay conscious long enough to fully understand.


	5. Transition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quesye's chance to escape -- or so she thought.

Quesye felt a cool sensation trickling along the shape of her mouth before her lips opened. Unsuspecting of it, she choked on the water at first before her body rose from slumber, and she lifted up impulsively to slurp however much she could, cupping her hands and drawing what amounts she could catch back to her mouth.

The Sand Girl had been hanging over her, tilting a dusty hydropak over her face. Her eyes were as hard as they were when she first saw her, concentrating on her face as she came to. Eventually the overflow stops. Quesye sits up, and comes to find her surrounded by Finn and two other members she hadn't seen before.

“You must've not thought any of this through, trooper.” Sand Girl said, capping her bottle.  
She didn't, but she wasn't going to admit that. Sand Girl didn't wait for an answer. Despite Finn desperately wanting to spare her for whatever reason, it wasn't in her interest to get to know the other woman.

Quesye watched them carry on with conversation, mentioning the Resistance location and even a name that was as well-known as it was thought a myth: Luke Skywalker. That's right. The map her division was so desperate to find. The one that Lord Ren was so tightly wound about. But then, what exactly didn’t wind up Lord Ren?

She heard them chattering with the new people on board. One claiming to be Han Solo himself. Rey and Finn were both expressing their surprise and elation while she took her time gathering herself. She heard footsteps guiding them in different regions of the ship. The room quieted, and just as her vision cleared, she saw Finn’s offered hand. Quesye looked up at his face, then took his hand and he helped her back on her feet.   
“Rest here,” He gestured to a bench installed inside the metal wall, and she nodded and carefully made her way over and fell on the cushioning. Just as she was settling however, Finn tied off her wrists around the nearby post.

“All that talk and you still don't trust me,” She rasped. She thought she heard a short, quiet laugh, but hadn't seen his face to be certain.  
“It wasn't an hour ago that you were still threatening my life. I'm only being smart.”  
“Sand Girl will be relieved to hear that.”  
He lifts a brow, then glances over his shoulder to follow Quesye’s line of sight to the pilot. “You mean Rey? She's. . .”  
“Smart. And honest. You'd probably do best giving her that same courtesy.”  
She saw the hesitation in his eyes, and quickly moved to change the subject.  
“No one’s ever held me captive before, and yet this is the most kindness anyone’s ever awarded me. Even more than Lady Phasma.”  
His face turned up at the name. “Phasma? _Kindness?_ Our divisions were very different.”   
A small, involuntary smile formed on her face, but left as soon as it came. He caught a glimpse of this, however, and just as he finishes with her restraints crouches beside her.  
“For someone so militant, you’ve got a sense of humor.”  
“So you think I’m funny?”

He looked at her, mouth curving, but at a loss for words. It was right when he fixed his mouth to speak that a shrill cried somewhere far from outside the ship. The group looked around. It seemed that the older man had an inkling of what it was. And he said something about a Rathtar that rang both Quesye and Finn’s memory with dread. Before they left, Finn warned her to stay aboard and they disappeared.

Alone again, Quesye rested her head on the flat pillow and closed her eyes. A headache lingered faintly at the front of her brain. What was she to do now? Whatever the case, she couldn't just lie here. Even though her body ached for rest and she wanted nothing more than to just dissolve into the cot, that wasn't who she was. A quitter. She wouldn't live as a prisoner. Quesye took a deep breath, and when she opened her eyes focused on undoing her restraints. Finn wasn't much of a tier, she realized, as the fabric came undone almost too easily. The poor sap. How did he choose to get in such a mess?

 

She stood up, and quickly searched around the ship. Her blaster had been resting on the table. She quickly recovered it, and ran towards the cockpit. With the others believing she was subdued, this would be her only chance to escape. The control panel was alight with complicated buttons and gears, but Quesye’s piloting skills had translated enough of the controls to understand.  
She plopped into the pilot chair, flipping at switches that she hoped were right. Hearing the engine slowly come to life, the woman sighed. Though just as she found herself ready to depart, she looked through the front window and realized, again, that they were trapped on another godforsaken ship. The Stormtrooper swore under her breath before darting out of the cockpit and barreling down the ships’ ramp. She’d have to somehow find a way to open the doors. Quesye ran down the ship's entrance, blaster tucked close and aimed for use before darting off further inside the ship.

She clambered down the dark halls lined with piping and wires, trying to steady her breathing. The moment she thought to doubt the extent of her own stamina was when the shrilling sounds of those putrid beasts filled the passageways. She ran faster.

A commotion grew louder as she trekked the halls. Further ahead had been a gang of men with their weapons drawn, pointing forward and readying their aim. She heard the voice of the old man. He must have been on the other side of the hall that she couldn’t see. Whatever he was saying wasn’t satisfactory, and the men fired several shots. There was another shrill and then the slimy, drooping beast came rushing behind them, swallowing several unsuspecting men whole. She skidded to a halt them quickly turned back around, running until she ran into the man and his hairy companion. She gasped. They should have been dead. Considering her plan to escape, she hoped that they would be. Seeing the whites in the old man’s eyes, she knew he was just as surprised. They all began to run again.

“Where's Finn and Rey?”  
“Who and who?” Han huffed. Quesye rolled her eyes.  
“The pilot and her friend!”  
He sounded just as exasperated. The man extended his firearm to take down two foes up ahead. “How the hell should I know?”  
Were they dead? No, not with the Sand Girl on Finn’s side. If anything they had the same idea as her and were working on opening the ships’ doors. She’d have to find them herself.  
The woman turned to check a passing corridor when two strangers appeared, aiming their weapons at the man only a pace ahead of herself. She quickly opened fire on them, and the old man turned to see the commotion. Surprised that the unnamed captive took quick to action, he and Chewbacca exchanged glances.

She huffed, and a strand of hair blew out of her face. “I'm going to find them.” Off she was, chasing down the opposite corridor. 

Quesye was relieved to be running faster than ever before with her armor not there to weigh her down, but internal conflict ruined her focus; She saved someone. She cocked her gun and shot the misfortunate cluster of low-lives that lifted their weapons to her, taking them down with precise aim. When she saw the back of a brown leather jacket and three vertical buns, she called out.

Finn and Rey slid to a halt, and looked up at her in surprise. There she was, the relentless Storm Trooper, barreling down on them with her blaster. When she aimed, they both flinched, but looked up when the cry and fall of a body that wasn't theirs hit their ears. A man had been lain out several inches from their backs.  
“I thought you --” Started Rey.  
“Quesye! How did you --” She didn't know if he was shocked or impressed. Rey certainly was. She glanced around, perplexed, mouthing the name.  
Once they were only a foot or so away, she toted her gun in aim for Rey. The two froze. “You're terrible at tying.” Quesye stopped to catch her breath. A shrill filled their silence. “Who let them out?”  
Finn looked at Rey, who flared red under both their gazes. “Not on purpose!”  
It was Quesye’s and Finn’s turn to exchange looks now. His eyes were black and steely. She felt her empty stomach twist.  
“Where’s the control room?”  
The corridor trembled violently. Finn and Rey glanced around, but Quesye made sure to keep her focus on them both.   
“Quesye, you won’t make it. It’s too dangerous.” Finn told her, voice laced with what she could guess was frustration.  
“I didn’t ask that. Where is it?”

They didn’t speak. Quesye glanced between them both as the floor rattling intensified. She swore to herself then grabbed Rey, shoving her ahead. “You probably have a clue on how to get the ship’s door open. Let’s go!”  
They all made a break for it, just as the shrieking was only a few feet away from them. Quesye could feel the rancid breath on her back. There came a scream that made her and Rey turn back. Finn suddenly wasn't upright anymore, snatched by one of the many slippery tentacles of the gelatinous beast. The two girls stopped to watch him get dragged off in horror. Rey screamed. “Finn!” 

Their feet beat against the grated floors almost in time with each other the two girls were shouting through the corridors, equally filled with dread as they reached out for Finn, who was helplessly flung around. When the Rathtar lashed out with its other sleazy limbs, almost snatching them, the girls stumbled backwards. The animal screamed and shrilled somewhere far off, leaving Quesye and Rey to run after the occasional bellows of the beast and Finn’s shouting.  
This was getting complicated. Quesye only wanted out of this mess, and it seemed that every passing second only shoveled her deeper into it. The girls faltered towards the entrance where their ship was not too far from, ears perked for any sound of their comrade. There he was, calling for help but this time in a very spacey, static tone. A control stand with cameras to all of the hall and doorways stood at the entrance. They both hovered over the small control panel, watching Finn weave in and out of sight. Rey's hand trembled over the display of buttons before slamming down on a button that sealed a door shut right in time to cut the tentacles off of the beast and free Finn. She and Quesye shared looks of relief.

Calamity shook all around them throughout the enormous ship, alarms blaring and red lights flashing. But Finn was safe, for now. There was no sign of Han and Chewbacca. Quesye looked down at the panel, then back at Rey and the blaster aligned with her chest. There was distance shouting, and a trilling noise that made Rey’s eyes pan over Quesye’s shoulder.   
She lowered the weapon. “Go get Finn. I'll find the others.” She instructed. Rey was wary at first, but only hesitated a moment before running off. Rey didn't have time to test her genuity, and Quesye never intended to prove it. They took off in opposite directions.

She blasted her way through several corridors before she found them. Chewy was knelt before a door that the old man had just manage to override. She made it in time to help the towering creature to his feet and back on the ship. Finn and Rey followed soon after with BB-8 before sealing off the entrance.

The two pilots went ahead to man the ships controls, continuing the starting sequence that Quesye left behind. There was a heavy weight that latched itself to the Falcon that shook the metal entity, but in the next few moments they were in hyper drive. Quesye shut her eyes and took a deep breath. This wasn't how she imagined escaping, but still, it beat being Rathtar chow. She opened her eyes and turned her attention to the struggling Finn who wasn't leaving a very good impression on the injured wookie. _Babies, both of them._ The woman recovered her balance and came over, reaching over his arms to help strap Chewbacca in securely.

“Thanks,” A surprised Finn said breathlessly. They withdrew at the same time and brushed against each other. He managed an apology that she soon dismissed. “You came and helped us. Why?”   
Damn. She thought she could avoid this. Quesye dithered, but Finn was insistent, leaning his head down and caging her, expecting an answer.  
She lowered her voice. “For right now, you all need me. And, hell, I guess I need you, too.” She could see the corners of his mouth lifting and kept talking to reverse it. “I'm not gonna play into this fantasy of yours okay? As soon as I can I'm getting the hell out of here.”

Finn cleared his throat as he tried to recover. “Well thank you.”  
She pressed her lips together. “Don't.” He’d regret it, trusting her. They all would. 

 

“Good job, kid,” Han Solo said to Finn. He had been taking his rounds, checking in on Chewie. Finn slowly removed himself, and Quesye stepped a fair distance from him, framing herself beside the booth seat while the others chattered. Han mentioned something about fugitives which made Quesye turn away, letting the conversation unravel until they focused on the droid and its display of the infamous map.  
It almost seemed intrusive, listening in as Han Solo explained the disappearance of the legendary Jedi. But it also deeply fascinated to hear about it, coming from the opposite spectrum. The conversation had convinced Han to help them with their mission.

Han Solo returns to the cockpit, leaving Rey, Finn and Quesye at a standstill. There was a strange tension between them that made for an uneasy silence. Quesye took a step forward, holding out her wrists. Sure, she spared their lives, but that didn't make her some sort of hero. She might as well get restrained now, rather later.   
Finn glanced down at her hands, then over to Rey, who had already stepped forward. The scavenger touched her wrists, then gently lowered them.  
Quesye searched the other woman’s face. “I don’t understand.”  
“I might live to regret this, but you helped us back there. And I saw the starter panel. You could have taken the ship. Or even killed us. But you didn’t.” She smiled. “It’s okay.”  
Finn’s apprehension slowly dissolved and he beamed at them both. Quesye lowered her wrists. “Thank you.”  
Rey soon followed behind Han to accompany him at the front. Finn’s cheery demeanor was met with a blank stare. He stopped smiling, brows furrowed. “What is it?”  
Quesye paused. Her voice lowered. “Why did you leave?”  
He licked his top lip briefly, searching the room as though the answer would fall from the ceiling. “Back on Jakku, when we were ordered to open fire on those people, I couldn’t do it. I can’t explain it. Something in my gut told me that it was all wrong.”  
“Had that ever happened before?” She asked. He shook his head.  
“I never guessed that I would ever back away from a mission. From anything they taught us. . . Have you?”  
Quesye straightened. “Not at all. Not ever.” She tried recalling a moment, a second, that she may have reconsidered her actions with the First Order, but wasn't surprised to find none.   
Finn stepped closer. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here now. Things can be different.”  
The woman looked at him wordlessly. That was easy for him to say. Quesye never needed re-conditioning because it was in her heart and flesh to destroy. He clearly was a defect. And she envied his claim to innocence.  
BB-8 rolled to Finn, chirping something neither of them could understand before heading for the front of the ship. He precariously followed behind, but stopped when realizing who was missing. He turned to her at the doorway, nodding in gesture for her to join him and the others. The lost trooper didn’t move at first, but eventually crossed the room. Quesye stood just before the doorway that led into the cockpit, watching just as the ship flew over lush forest roofs and deep blue waters. Rich colors tinted the cockpit in warm greens. Her full lips part in surprise as she admired the view, far too distracted from a set of dark eyes practically burning into her.

She could hear it, too, in Rey’s voice as she took in all of the rich vegetation they were gliding between. Neither of them had ever seen a place so lush before in their lifetimes. So blue and open. And if Quesye ever did, it wasn’t long before she and the other troops stormed through and destroyed all of the living and left behind a wasteland. The thought passed her of how her hands seemed to only know chaos, and how it had no place here. How could she look anyone in the face and demand redemption? How could she be valued when all she knew was killing? For all she knew, that was all she was good for.

The woman’s eyes darted over where Finn was standing beside her, just as mesmerized, a hint of a smile on his lips. It must have scared him too, being across enemy lines relishing in their joys like one of them. He felt he could be one of them. It seemed his doubt didn’t overflow him like her own. How lucky was he to harness something as human as hope so easily?  
Finn looked over to her before she managed to turn away, meeting her dazed expression with concern. “What’s wrong?” He mouthed.

Her brows arched and she shook her head, ignoring the way her ears burned before quickly turning away. Her eyes, a rich mahogany, fell to the windshield, absorbing all of the flourishing nature surrounding them. “Nothing. It's just. . .”  
He finished her thought. “Beautiful.”  
Shades of olive and meridian cast over her face. The woman nodded. When she saw that his attention didn’t return to new world spread out before them, she kept her gaze averted.


	6. A Change of Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out that our accidental hero isn't the only one whose heart changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

The planet of Takodana was a beautiful splendor. The first ones that leave the ship and witness it first were Han and Rey, and it wasn’t long before the others joined them and they started their walk to an edifice built on stones of various auburns and clarets. The air was so clean. It filled Quesye with so much relief and eased the tension knotting in her muscles.  
She hadn’t been listening very intently to Han Solo’s rant as they arrived, her eyes fastened on the colorful banners flowing over their heads, star rays filtering down on their faces. When she looked down, he had just been warning them not to stare -- at anything, apparently.

The door slid open, and lively chatter and overlapping voices wafted outside. The tables were fully occupied with various creatures, engrossed in conversation that she couldn’t entirely understand, dining, drinking and gaming. A local cantina, open to people from all walks of life. It seemed harmless until in a moments time, Han Solo’s name was shouted out from somewhere in the room.  
A small, orange being came shuffling over until she was toe-to-toe with the man himself, demanding the whereabouts of her boyfriend. Quesye stifled a laugh at his reply, and followed behind the group who settled at one of the tables further back. Quesye sized up the small appetizers stacked on a display before reaching for one, and after sampling a taste stealthily took one after the other, quieting the hunger that made its presence known with a loud growl from her stomach.

Maz had pointed out the obvious; this entire debacle was a mess. And it was clear that Han wanted as little to do with it as possible. Quesye hadn’t blamed him; they came from different spectrums, but were in the same boat. And it was coincidental that Maz would respond with the Dark Side, and a dissertation about how defeating them -- people like herself -- was the one true fight. Their faces each went grim as she went on. She thought that their best bet was unifying against the First Order. To everyone’s surprise, however, Finn spoke out in opposition.

“There is no fight against the First Order. Not one we can win.” She looked at him in disbelief. Who was he convincing, speaking like such a pessimist? He went on, serving good points that she couldn’t exactly counter, but she wanted in some way to stop him from exposing himself. Who would believe him a Resistance fighter?

Maz adjusted her bifocals, and he stammered. Emboldened, Maz clambered on the table, inspecting him as he shifted uncomfortably, asking over and again about her intentions. She said that she was looking at a man who wanted to run. Striking a nerve, a darkness cast over him that Quesye or Rey had never seen before. Finn fed her a barbed response. It made Quesye uncomfortable. Maz retracts, and in her same languid tone points him to what he wants -- an escape. Quesye perked up at this. Two cantine dwellers across the way were apparently their ticket out.

Rey called to him, incredulous. He waited a beat, then leaned in and spoke a string of words that made the small treat in Quesye’s mouth taste sour: _Come with me._ Her eyes slowly found his face just before he left the table, defeated by Rey’s silence. Rey glanced down at BB-8, trying to make sense of what just happened before meeting Quesye by the eyes, looking at her for answers. Quesye couldn’t begin to understand what for.

“I’m sorry, Rey.” Those words had never meant much to her before now, and yet they left her mouth so easily. Quesye turned away from the others and quickly followed behind Finn’s path.

Rey chased after him. Quesye would pick up the conversation Finn left behind, trying to block out their exchange as much as she could.  
“Take me as far away from here as you can go.”

She glanced over, finding Finn back at her side with a look of forlorn. Rey had returned to the table across the cantine, visibly crushed. She hadn’t said much, letting him talk to the two travelers to negotiate an escape. He’d be leaving on the same ship as her, it turned out. She found it funny; he wanted her to believe that there was a chance of redemption for people like them. Yet he was backing out on those beliefs before her very eyes. 

“That wasn’t fair, Finn.” It was the second time she said his name. It tasted strange on her tongue. The two of them sat adjacent to the travelers at a small table.  
He winced, then looked at her. “Since when did you care about fairness?”  
She ignored his spite. “She believed in you. She’s here _because_ of you.”  
“I asked her to come with me! She’s here by her own choice.” And with that, the ex-trooper folded his arms over the table and glanced away.

Quesye stood abruptly, her chair scraping the floor in the most unpleasant harmony. “Doesn’t give you the right to be shitty, does it?”  
She let him stare at her incredulously as she made her way back to the other side of the room. Rey lingered at an archway, seeming conflicted.  
Uncertain of what to say, Quesye reached out to lightly touch her shoulder. Rey jolted in surprise, but calmed at the sight of her. It was a comfort that Quesye didn’t feel she deserved.

“Are. . . are you alright?” This was weird. Consoling wasn’t apart of her training.  
Rey rubbed her arm, nodding. A lie. She wouldn’t challenge it. The scavenger looked up at her, searching her eyes.  
“. . . You lied for him.” Quesye’s chest tightened. “All that time, you knew. Why?”  
“I don’t know.” Quesye confessed. In so many ways she resented him. He had been what got her this point -- an accidental fugitive on the run. And yet she felt compelled to keep his secrets.

A set of fingers curled around her hand. Rey stared at her with a gentle look on her face. Though she couldn’t understand Finn’s change of mind, Quesye saw what she guessed he saw in the scavenger. Rey was beautiful. That bitter presence that festered inside of her when Finn took her hand slowly eroded. 

Quesye squeezed the scavenger’s hand, and they both managed to smile at each other.  
“Thank you, Quesye.” She said quietly. The lost trooper nodded before taking her hand back. She looked over where the two traveling folk had been, and saw that they disappeared. She searched the room before spotting them at the front entrance, Finn trekking behind them.  
“You should go.” Rey said.  
“Yeah. I’m. . .” Her voice trailed off. How easy did she forget. Quesye looked at Rey a long moment before smiling softly at her. It surprised the desert dweller. “Be well.”  
She hurried out of the front door without another word.


	7. Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hosnian system has been destroyed. The First Order comes for blood.

The three of them had moved pretty quickly across the grounds. Faster than Quesye expected. Fortunately she hadn’t been the only one trailing behind; several others walked in the direction of woods, with suitcases and sacks over their shoulders. She followed behind the scattered crowd through the thick of trees.

Though she tried not to, her mind rolled around the thoughts of the others, and a sinking feeling weighed her chest. She continued to walk forward, but her steps were slower. The woman had never known regret the way she felt it at that moment. It made her hate it that much more. This was her plan from the beginning, to leave. She didn’t belong with them. She chanted this mantra every waking moment, and it filled her with vindication. But now all she could think of was the crestfallen look on Rey’s face, and the fear in Finn’s eyes.

Far behind the others, her surroundings were relatively quiet. It made escaping those foreign thoughts that much harder. When a crackling sound filled the forest, her thoughts immediately vanished. She froze. Leaves in the canopy above her fluttered in the wind. The atmosphere suddenly felt thick. She held her breath.  
In the shortest moment, two bodies broke through a nearby brush and raced forward. Still armed, Quesye reached for the blaster in the side of her boot, but a laser beam blew it out of her hand and she shrieked. She held her hands above her head, stood before two white suits. Swiftly, the one on her left stepped forward and jerked the butt of his blaster at her head.

* * *

She could smell the smoke before any of her other senses returned. The heat of it alone was choking. It was tasking, trying to breathe through the smog. Quesye’s eyes slowly opened to fields of rubble, littered with bodies. Fleets of white suits stormed the grounds, shooting with killing intent. TIE-Fighters shrieked through the sky, and she looked up to find the blue canvas blemished with five burning red stars. Dread slowly sunk in her bones. Her face twisted when realizing just what they were.   
She tried lifting her arms, only to find leather restraints binding her. The woman shouted, jerking around, rattling the stretcher that hauled her away from the battlefield.   
“Quiet, traitor!” A trooper to her left demanded. Two had been walking beside her, directing the entrapment that bound her to a black ship. Quesye squeezed her eyes, trying to subdue the sharp pain that spread through her skull. She felt a queasiness disrupt her stomach. Of all the ways she thought she’d be boarding this ship, this wasn’t it.   
“Why are we doing this to them?” Quesye asked in a broken voice. They didn’t answer.

The noise of the battlefield was slowly fading. She could hear, more profoundly, the whirring of the ships internal functions and exhausts. Quesye’s eyes slowly wandered to the right, looking up at the Stormtrooper tasked with escorting her. It wasn’t long before her prolonged staring got his attention. He looked down at her.  
“What’re you looking at, trai- -” A flash of light went through his armor. He grunted, fighting until his last breath before falling to the ground. The gurney dropped and she shouted a profane in anguish. The other Stormtrooper quickly drew his weapon. His breathing shakily filtered through his helmet as he rotated around. 

The Stormtrooper seemed to shoot blindly. Silence spread around them again. Now flat on the ground, Quesye had a very limited perspective, and she wriggled against her restraints, her vulnerability too frightening to think about. Another deadly beam shot through the last standing trooper, who crumbled to the ground. A cluster of footsteps came barreling her way. Her breathing was coarse.

“Over here!” An old, raspy voice directed. “Quesye!” His voice was strained with distress. Quesye sucked in a sharp breath. A set of footsteps grew louder until she was certain whoever it was would trample her. Finn doubled over at her side. She could see the shine of perspiration on his brow. The tension in her chest eroded at the sight of him. Finn searched her face, and when he found nothing his expression softened. His hands worked swiftly to undo her straps.   
“How. . . You left.”  
“I came back.” With the last strap undone, he slid his arms underneath her body, and hefted her up, wedging her against his chest. He looked over at Han and Chewbacca. “Let’s go.”

She wasn’t sure whether or not her head trauma was the reason behind it, but Quesye latched onto his brown jacket, and rolled her head against his shoulder. All of the running and commotion was making her stomach twist. Her eyelids felt like lead weights.  
“. . . ‘M so tired, Finn.”  
He shook his arms that were caged around her. “No. No, no, no, no, no. Quesye, stay awake! Wake up!”  
The sharp pain encapsulating her skull was relentless. Quesye cringed, letting out a pitiful cry. She could feel his strides strengthen and a chilling draft pushed against her. His feet hardly met the ground. 

The fleets of TIE-Fighters dwindled as X-Wings barreled across the skies, hot on their trails. Quesye looked around, surprised to see crumpling white suits at the end of Resistance weaponry. The First Order’s battalions were retreating quickly. Finn and the others made it to a clearing where several space crafts were landing, fighters pouring out to defeat Stormtroopers that were left behind. Several Resistance members came rushing to their aid, taking Quesye and hauling her inside one of the ships. Loud voices boomed over her, several people hastily strapping her down. A flash of a black and silver mask went across her mind. Panic twisted inside of her stomach. She jerked forward, and a throbbing pain anchored her back down. The ship began to ascend. 

The turbulence that followed was nauseating, but brief. Quesye struggled to discern the voices swarming around her, only understanding bits and pieces. The First Order attacked Taokanda. But the Resistance managed to chase them off. Quesye sighed, then closed her eyes. The voices and humming mechanics of the ship fazed in and out. How long had they been traveling? Any concept of time escaped her. 

She felt a pressure surround her hand, just as she felt herself slowly slipping from consciousness, and forced her eyes open then peered to her side. Finn’s eyes were fastened on their joined hands. Feeling her stare, he looked up.   
“Hey,” He said, voice low and rasped. He had never looked so drawn. “You're gonna be okay.”  
The woman swallowed. “Where are they taking us?”  
“Their base. They have medical supplies and reinforcements.”  
“Shouldn't be long now,” one of the ships boarders said as she walked by. “Tell your friend to hang tight. She'll be okay.”

Finn looked down at her with a reassured smile. His hands caged her own. “You heard her. Rest.”  
Quesye shook her head about an inch back and forth. “I'm tired of waking up to a different situation.”  
He nodded before looking down at his feet. “Yeah. I understand.”

She didn't mind the silence that followed. It gave her time to mull over the horrible things that happened not too long after arriving to Taokanda. Thinking back on the red lights in the sky, she thought she'd retch. Her typically blank mind puts the image of her and her fleet destroying villages, torching homes and gunning down the helpless on a canvas with agonizing strokes. She squeezed her eyes tight as they stung. Her throat was strangled by an unfamiliar knot.   
Finn scooted closer, hands finding her shoulders and squeezing with urgency. “Quesye, what's wrong? Open your eyes.”  
He couldn't hear it at first, her voice dim as if her throat was wrung. But he quieted, and could hear the weeping of a woman struck with regret, repeating: “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”


	8. Assurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quesye and Finn share a moment of loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was discouraged about updating, but I finished this entire fic and I may as well finish what I started. Thank you for reading and for your kudos.

The Resistance didn’t have much to clean up; Ren’s presence was brief, and when he got what he wanted he fled the planet, meaning the Stormtroopers followed shortly behind. With nothing but ruins around them, Quesye and the others followed along with the Resistance back to their base on D’Qar. The location was evasive at first, shielded by the thick jungle canopies before their spacecraft broke through to a clearing of endless grassy moors as far as the eye could see.  
It was more people than she imagined it would be. Having always been on the other side of a blaster’s barrel, they always seemed outnumbered and disorganized with how Ren hunted and killed them. She thought twice, now, being escorted through rich green hills with man-made structures and large satellite dishes carved into them. Rows of X-Wings aligned the landing strip as fighters and pilots of the Resistance swarmed with individual purpose down the tan pavement.

Quesye tried reassuring the medics hauling her through the base that she was well enough to stand, but they wouldn't hear it. It didn't help that Finn exaggerated her injuries to them. Contrary to her claim, she wasn't well enough to shout at him and demand he stop. She shut her eyes when the iridescent lights of the medibay beamed down on her. The three medics at her side transferred her to one of the beds and in no time at all a droid made its way over, sweeping her with an injury scan. Multiple concussions. It would take a bit of time but she would be okay.

A lot had happened in the series of a few hours. It was hard to shake the weight off her chest from seeing the Hosnian system destroyed before her own eyes. Countless lives gone in such a brief instant. The trained indifference inside of Quesye warred with the slowly sprouting ache of empathy she found since her break with the First Order. In a way, being immersed in a crowd of busy people was a good distraction. Five particular distractions came inside her rest area unexpectedly. Surprised, she shifts in her cot in order to sit up, swatting at the impetuous Finn who urged her to lie back down.

“I had a concussion, Finn, I’m not dying.” She griped. He stammered, quickly removing his hands from her arms and stood away from the bed. Han laughed alongside the others. Not knowing who one was, she tensed up. “What is this?”  
Finn smiled, leaning against the edge of the cot by his palms to speak. “We came to check in on you.” BB-8 rolled to the foot of her bed, chirping in a tone that she only heard around Rey.  
“Looks like BB-8’s glad to see you’re feeling better.” The sore thumb of a stranger said. Quesye looked up at Finn.  
“That’s Poe Dameron. I guess you never did meet him formally.”  
The orange-suited pilot walked to the side of the stretcher and offered his hand, grinning when her hand squeezed harder than expected.  
“I heard a lot about you. All good things, I promise.” He smiled towards Finn. Despite the mayhem going on around them, Poe appeared impressively buoyant. Happy to be alive, probably. Quesye flushed when he looked back at her. “The more the merrier. Good to meet you, Quesye. Welcome to the Resistance.”  
She blinked feverishly. “Thank you.” Quesye looked around, making a head count. She turned back over to Finn. “Where's Rey?”  
She had never seen the color in his face drain so quickly. “She's. . . They took her, Quesye.”

The following silence and their grim faces confirmed the worst she’d ever imagined happening. Quesye stared at her lap, shaking her head and stammering. She felt robbed. Helplessness anchored on her chest. Finn couldn’t hide the surprise in his face when he met her glossy eyes.   
“What are we going to do?”

He looked down, searching for an apt response, then looked over at the others.  
“We’ll, uh, catch up with you later.” Said Han, taking Poe by the shoulder and urging him in the opposite direction. “Feel better, kid.”  
She nodded, smiling when Chewie trilled what she imagined was to get well, and waving goodbye. Finn found a chair and settled beside her.

The both of them were lost on what to say. They both knew what happened to enemies of the First Order. Thoughts of when she saw Rey last played in her head. Quesye knew that loneliness too well. Led to a dead end, only to be captured. It was their fault. They had to do something. Anything.   
She rubbed furiously at the tears on her face until her cheeks were tinted red. 

“I spoke with the General.” He murmured. “She wants to help us. We’re going to get her back.”  
Quesye nodded. “We have to. We did this. She wouldn’t have been targeted if not for us.”  
His mouth fell into a deep frown. “Right.”  
She looked up at him, silent at first. The frenzy of emotions inside her went cold. “This must be hard on you.”  
“I’m. . .” His voice trailed off. He ran his hands down his face. “I ran. She needed me and I ran. And now she’s gone.”  
Quesye’s mouth turned down at the corners. A familiar, bitter taste formed on her tongue. She ignored it and reached over to touch his arm. His other hand overlapped hers, running his thumb along her knuckles. “We’ll get her back. Whatever your plan is, it will work.”  
He drew his lip in to lick it briefly. “How do you know?”  
“I don’t. But if there’s one thing I do know, it’s that you’ve got the dumbest luck, buckethead. Anything’s possible.”  
Finn’s eyes found hers, and he smiled slowly. They shared laughter that started small, and grew enough to bring the color back in their faces.


	9. R&R

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn and Quesye adjust to life on base. Finn asks her an important question.

The interior was built under the hilly terrain with dark cement and metal. It was visibly old, with vines webbing the stone archways and knotted branches fused in their corners. But the fortress was strong. Poe led them underground, where the control center unfurled before them, alive with activity. The giant think tank was full of tactical men, women, and unassigned alike with an endless desire to fight for the greater good. The intercom alerts sounded much louder inside, and all of their diligent work seemed that much more urgent.  
They came toe-to-toe with the General herself, who had immediately praised Finn for his bravery in switching sides and fighting alongside them. He expressed the urgent need to find and rescue Rey, and of course she replied with the purest form of empathy and promised to extend her help in what way she could.

They got lost in the life of the fortress, watching the ebb and flow of activity as the others tended to data and complex computers and, well, each other. Exchanging information, tending to the wounded, going over strategies on a holographic map. Quesye had never been so close to such complex technology. Back with the First Order, she didn’t need such privileges. They were so involved with each other here.  
Poe did his best to familiarize them with the area as much as possible, but understood that with their journey and having only just arrived to the hideout, it would take some time for a lot of things to stick. He led them to the large, complex system of corridors, a bit further from the heart of their base that bustled with activity. It seemed slower, and more domestic here.  
“I’m sure you probably want to shower, recover a bit before we figure out our next course of action. Take advantage of as much time you have. We’re short on that here.” He stood between two doors while speaking to them both. Quesye had the right while Finn had the left. A simple series of numbers would let them in and out as they pleased and give them their privacy. Poe patted Finn’s shoulder with enthusiasm before parting ways with them both.

The following silence was deafening. They seemed to hesitate at their doors before departing.  
The room was relatively small. But she was so relieved to see clean cotton sheets. Unlike her former living conditions, the walls and floors were warmer in color. And the enclosed space dulled the noise of the outside, leaving room for her mind to expand and not weigh so heavy on her. She slowly peeled out of her clothes and dropped them into what she guessed was a laundry chute. The shower water was cold, but she savored it, raking her fingers down her skin and along her scalp until she was satisfied.

Her clothes hadn’t arrived back from the chute, so she settled for a towel and fell on the cot, carefully pressing a cloth to her wet hair until it wasn’t so heavy with water. The ex-trooper did her best keeping her mind clear, despite all that happened. It felt easier to get lost in the comfort of the twin-sized bed. She stretched her body along the length and pressed her face into the pillow, humming contentedly as each heavy thought wafted away with her conscious.  
Quesye was unintentionally dozing off, and hardly heard the knocking at her door for the first few minutes they tapped. Her eyes opened. She didn't move at first, letting the person continuously rap at the door, but eventually got to her feet to answer.

When she pressed the button she expected perhaps Poe or someone from the Resistance to be on the other side. Not Finn, fumbling with his hands and looking up in surprise when the light of her room lit his face. She gave him a once over, forcing her eyes away from his naked chest and stocky frame. It seemed he had the same idea in mind as her. But telling from the absence of water beads on his dark, warm skin, he didn’t commit.

When she didn’t speak Finn cleared his throat. “Hi. We should talk.”  
“Now?” She asked.  
“I understand that this probably isn’t the best time, but we typically don’t have much of it. Listen, Quay, I’m sorry for running away.” That conversant, earnest tone tugged at something she wished would stay buried. “I shouldn’t have left without at the very least saying goodbye.”  
Quesye pressed her lips together and her gaze faltered. “We both know what Lord Ren is capable of. I can’t judge you for that.”  
He didn’t seem that convinced. “Can I come in?”

Quesye stepped to the side and watched as he walked inside. Though she didn’t feel uneasy in their shared silence, she scrambled around in her brain for something worthwhile of saying.   
Finn sat at the very edge of her bed. Telling from his expression, he was at a loss for words, himself.   
“Do you blame me for what happened?”  
She debated before answering. “No. not for that.”  
He studied her face for a drawn-out moment. “Is there something you do blame me for?”  
Quesye sat on the small desk on the other side of the small room. “It’s. . . more complicated than that.”

Recalling the past several days took a slight toll on her fragile conscious, but it couldn’t be helped. When she saw his face she thought of Rey, and the look he gave the scavenger. She couldn’t shake the feeling of neglect that plagued her ever since.   
“I’m sorry if I don’t understand,” She could hear in his tone that he truly didn’t. And it was frustrating him. “But how can I know if you don’t tell me?”

A brief flash of anger crossed her. How much of herself would she have to unravel? Ever since she started this accidental expedition, she had to confront emotions she, even now, didn’t understand. How would she articulate the fire she felt when she thought of the way he looked at Rey?   
Her words came out sharp. “When you decided to go, you didn’t choose me.”  
Finn started to speak, beginning to question what she meant, but it hits him before he finds the words to say. His silence weakened her courage.

“Maybe you don’t look at me that way. Perhaps our commonality starts and ends at our past. . . But you showed me freedom, and courage. You were the only one willing to save me from my own self and I didn’t even want you to. But I was starting to believe you, and you [i]chose Rey[/i].” The words were flooding out. This wasn’t protocol. Her mind was whirling, unable to process these churning emotions as they fell out of her mouth. “And I just don’t understand. You didn’t think twice to extend that kindness to me. To offer me to go away, as if I’d rather do nothing but live in fear of a regime that wants me dead. Did it ever occur to you, Finn, that I was scared, too?”

The question rang through the silence. Quesye wasn’t sure if she wanted an answer. She was beginning to convince herself that she didn’t even need a reply. It wasn’t as if he took any of this into consideration. The impulsive nature that she admired so much was already revealing its drawbacks. The woman pled that whatever moving force that forged this universe would just make him, and every aspect of her hurt go away.

“I overestimated you, Quesye.” Her immediate reaction was to shout, but he continued. “I assumed that you didn’t need me. You’ve shown more integrity than I have, even on the side of the First order, and I’m sure it’s always been in you to lead.”  
“I don’t need you.” She straightened her back. “I -- I just wanted. . .”  
He picked up on her hesitation, but decided to change course. ”It was wrong of me to focus so much on Rey’s vulnerability and not yours, too. I don’t know how I can make up for that.  
I was scared but it never occurred to me that you were, too. You’re just always so much braver than I am.”  
If those planets weren’t destroyed, he would be long gone by now. It was hard to blame him for his fear, but it didn’t lighten what it felt like to be chosen last. 

The memory flashed in her mind and she averts her eyes from him.  
“Am I less human in that respect?” Human. Under the white suits and years of conditioning, the word was just a classification. But when she said it now the syllables were heavy.  
He looked back up at her. “No. Not at all.”

Quesye heard the change in his voice. All of her pent up aggression seemed to dilute upon seeing him. He looked restless. His eyes flickered over her face, searching for something. The blatant staring unnerves her. “Finn, quit it.” She demanded, but her voice comes out small.  
“I’m sorry.” He said. “I will never make you feel that way again.”  
“Thank you.” The clock on the wall chimed the transition of the hour. Neither of them moved. “What now?”  
“I don’t know. I guess, I. . . I. . . I wanted to know – what I mean to say is, well. . .” She watched as the red undertones of his deep complexion developed under his skin. He spoke more carefully now. “Of all the choices you can make now, free from Ren, free from the First Order, I’ve wanted to know something.”  
“Don’t beat around the bush, Finn.” Her voice is gentle, but she’s on edge.  
His seemed loud in the small quarters. “Would you choose me?”


	10. (Not) According To Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We near the conclusion of this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the longer chapters.

What? The question didn’t make it past her lips, but it contorted her face. He wouldn’t be deterred by her silence.  
“I never wanted you to rely on me to dictate you. Not like them,” Them. They suddenly were so far from the image of white suits. When he stood from the bed, she froze. Watching him slowly edge closer to the desk were the longest seconds of her life. “When I met you, I was free to choose. And I chose you. But, I also want to be a choice. Not something you’re shoved into. Not the wisest choice, maybe not even the best one. But a choice. And you’re free to make so many of them now. I want to be one of them. I want to know if I am.”

Quesye had been thrown a curveball. Everything she thought to say didn’t seem right. He caged her between his arms and leaned over the desk. Quesye studied the details of his face. She could see how it was ruining him, the anticipation. But as she thought on it, she wondered how much was their exchange a choice of her own, or just a part of his influence. When did she decide for herself that this was what she wanted? If she had the alternative of fleeing and never coming back, would she choose that instead? Maybe she and Finn were more different than she thought.  
Finn’s chest expanded when he took a deep breath, trying to even his composure.

“This probably isn’t the best time.” One of his hands overlapped her own. His palm was so warm in contrast to her cold skin. She suppressed a shudder. Finn seemed to ignore it, rolling the soft pads of his hands along her skin until their fingers wove together. “Will you at least think about it?”  
“Yes. Of course.” Quesye sounded winded. She blinked rapidly, trying to break this dizzying trance. “I will think it over.”  
That inner light in him seemed to dim. But he stood, removing his hands then nodding a farewell. The heavy atmosphere leaves with him. When she finds herself alone again, the places Finn’s hand touched tingled.   
The laundry chute made a small beep when it returned her clothes. Quesye wriggled back into them, treasuring the toasty fabrics’ embrace. Warmth. Protective and wholesome, familiar. Like Finn. Quesye immediately perishes the thought. She returns to her bed and curled into the tucked in sheets. The girl shuts her eyes, refusing to dive into her untamed thoughts until sleep came over her.

 

She felt her body jerk before her eyes snap open. Quesye finds that her hands have formed into fists, appearing ready to strike. Sighing, Quesye slowly rises from the bed, and glances around the room. The time projects on one of the otherwise empty walls. She wasn’t out long. Her palms are damp. It would be awhile before deep sleeping came natural to her. The dream doesn’t come to her clear, but now awake, she immediately thinks about Rey. The last time she saw her, the scavenger was being hauled unconscious by Ren himself. Quesye wondered exactly what interest the war lord had with Rey. It made her sick to think that they were to blame for her being kidnapped. Even more so to recall how not too long ago she was trying to bring them to Ren personally.  
People who were captured by Ren, never came back the same. Many never came back at all. Not knowing his intentions made it all the more confounding in knowing whether or not Rey would be spared. The thought defines itself with visuals she wished she never was so conditioned to know. Quesye jumps from bed, and at the sink rubs cold water into her face. She sees finally that her hair has taken to a thicker volume due to air-drying. The woman tousles her hair a bit before decided to leave it be, and left her room.

Outside of the room the halls were still awakened with activity. She was immersed back into a world where hundreds of people witnessed the mass destruction of several planets as well as an ambush from the First Order. Those from all walks of life continued relentlessly to work through their shock and grief and fatigue to keep the hive going. Quesye walked through clouds of dialogue full of information that she couldn’t immediate decipher. Progress. That was for certain.  
Roaming the halls long enough she ran into Poe again, who directed her to the cafeteria. They chatted a bit about mundane things such as how her nap was, and he reminded her how supportive he was of her switch over, even commenting how Finn spoke so highly of her.

“He insists that I embrace this new identity, but as cliché as it sounds, Finn is giving too much credit.” Quesye said.  
Poe’s thick brows furrow and he nods. “Well, Finn’s got a big heart. It’s what got him so far, and honestly I’d have to say I trust his judgement. You should cut yourself some slack, now and then.”  
She decides not to challenge his observation, merely nodding to acknowledge him. Quesye commends him for surviving and helping rescue them back at the cantine, hoping it would be a distraction from herself. He doesn’t push her much further, and only inquired about minor things, ensures that her room has what she needs, suggests she take advantage of the medical stations while she had the time.

It’s no surprise that at the cafeteria Finn waits alone for Poe, and that Poe expects her to join them. Beside him is another tray of food. It wasn’t as colorful as the food at the cantina, but it looked more flavorful than the gray muck she scarfed down with the First Order. Their eyes meet briefly before she settles on the bench beside Finn. Poe busies himself with his own tray of goods, neat enough to portion the food with his cutlery but still managing to mottle the corner of his mouth with remnants of his meal.  
The two of them ate at a slower pace, crossing eyes at each other’s profiles. A part of her hoped that their exchange, the fight, and the fluttering sensations he placed in her stomach were all a hazy dream. But the awkward air between them was too profound to be fiction. She tried to speak with Poe enthusiastically about the surprising flavors in her food. The starch and meat-based meal was, admittedly, very satisfying. Quesye even boasted about it with Finn, whom she knew was just as surprised what little seasonings it had that made it stand out on their inexperienced palettes. It did manage to break a smile out of him. She wanted to hate how that pleased her.

However, when Poe departs from the table on urgent business, the two fall silent again, and focus on busying their mouths with food until their plates were cleared. Finn quickly insisted that he’d return her tray for her. Quesye doesn’t protest, and instead takes this as an opportunity to leave without having to issue an awkward goodbye.  
“Quay, wait.” Shit. She keeps composed, but her fingers curl against her palms tight for several moments. When she hears him nearing, Quesye quickly turns to face him.  
“Yes, Finn?”  
She could see him beginning to doubt himself, before holding his hand out and presenting - - what was that? An elastic band? She wasn’t coy about her confusion this time.  
“The General wanted me to give you this. She said you probably needed a break from all your hair swinging in your face.”  
Quesye laughs, and the sound seems to soften Finn. He smiles, and for a moment that awkward tension between them seemed nonexistent. A distant part of her mind wondered about a world that could afford these luxuries.  
His smile fading, he looked to her expectantly. “May I - - I mean, would you like me to. . .?”  
She looked down at his hand, seeing that the hair band wrapped around his fingertips. Her eyes broaden, but she maintains her natural demure. “Yes. Sure. Thank you.”  
Finn’s shoulders fell. Was he expecting rejection? He carefully circled her, and when his fingers swept along the nape of her neck she shuts her eyes and exhales through her nose. Finn was sure to not yank her mass of tight curls, and ran his hands along the locks to familiarize himself before tying it off with the elastic band.

“You’ll have to thank the General for me. This makes a world of a difference.” Quesye said. He beamed.  
“I will. I’m actually heading over to see her now. There’s some updates for the mission.” The mission to rescue Rey. He’d want to follow up on that as soon as possible. Quesye internalized the hate she felt for becoming so jealous. Rey was important to her, too. Why couldn’t it be that simple?  
“Right, I understand.”  
“You should come with me. It will be good to keep you in the loop.”  
“That’s fair.” She worried that her irrational feelings would cloud her sensibility, but there were things to be done. She’d have to deal with it later.  
Back in the nerve of the base itself, several members clustered the round table with a graphed map projecting above it. Finn seemed to seep seamlessly into the surrounding group, pointing at sections of the map as they went on, assessing the Starkiller for weakness. Their base. The First Orders fleet. They looked to him to gain a better understanding of how, exactly, to infiltrate the high defenses. Finn assures them that by their side, the defensive shield can be disarmed. Quesye sees the hope in the eyes of the others. They trusted him. It was that easy. But they had lost so many people, had fought for so long, had failed so many times that Quesye understood how quick they clung to any semblance of hope.

It was decided. Finn would go with Han and Chewie to dismantle the First Order’s defenses, creating a window for the flight team to destroy the oscillator. Two birds with one stone. They spoke amongst each other, preparing for the battle to come. When they dispersed Quesye thought to follow behind them, but was stalled by the General herself. Surprised, she takes a step back, nodding in regards to Organa.  
“Sorry if I startled you.” She said. “I’ve just seen you several times today and haven’t acquainted myself. A friend of Finn’s, right? Are you leaving with the others?”  
“I didn’t take it personal. There’s a lot to be done here. I’m Quesye.” It felt strange on her tongue. Unnatural. She was still fitting into the name. “Finn and I work together. I’ll be leaving with them soon.”  
General Organa nods, folding her hands together as she glances over to the trio several feet across from them. “It means a lot to have you both to help us. We’ve lost too many and any shot at disarming the First Order is equally worth its risk. I understand that you both have useful intel given your experiences, so please be careful during your mission.”  
Quesye froze. Finn. She preferred that her past went unnoticed by someone so highly esteemed, and that her recent actions would speak louder for her, but Quesye understood that would be impossible to do this early. Maybe it was unfair to want to deny her past to those who have long suffered because of it. Either way, Quesye straightens and gives her thanks before filing out to meet Finn on the landing strip.

“How do you suppose we’re getting in?” Finn turns his attention to her, and seemed surprised at her appearance.  
“I - - we should talk.” He said. Finn guides her several paces away from Chewie, and Quesye tries her best to conceal her confusion.  
“What is it?” She demanded.  
“I want you to stay here.” She vocalizes her incredulity and Finn glances around, wide eyed and apprehensive. “I know given what I said before, it doesn’t make sense but listen, please - -“  
“I’m not some rookie soldier, Finn. I’ve seen my fair share of battles. I can handle myself.” Though she keeps the volume of her voice low, her tone is cutting. Her hand gestures are more expressive than normal.  
“I know that.”  
“You can’t protect me, you can’t try to save me - -“  
“Yes. I know and that’s the point.” He steps closer, wanting to contain their slowly rising voices. They continue to go unnoticed in the swarm of chatter. “I can’t protect you in the face of danger. I couldn’t even do that for Rey.” Her mouth drew down at the corners. He quickly tries to recover. “The General, and all of these good people need someone with information on the inside more than I need you by my side.”  
Nauseated, Quesye glanced around. Intel. These people needed as much as they could provide. Her understanding of the Starkiller Base, the weaponry, et al, was vital to their survival. With both of them risking their lives, they were gambling with the only source of intel they had. It made sense. She hated it.  
Her emotions, so newly explored, surfaced on her face despite her introversion. He picked up on her disappointment, and cradled her lower face in his hands, craning his neck forward. “I can’t lose you, too. Please.”  
“. . . It makes sense. We can’t be irresponsible as important resources for these people. It’s selfish.” Being sensible was becoming a chore she wanted no part of.  
Finn nods appreciatively, and she can feel his fingers curling into some of her hair. His eyes flickered along her face before deciding to draw her into a tight hug. It was new to her, being so close, and terror at the new sensation stiffened her arms. Finn didn’t seem to mind. He breathed into her hair. He didn’t rush the embrace. She very lightly felt the leather of his jacket along her fingertips before he finally released her and went darting off and got lost in the swarm of others. Rather wait for them to depart, Quesye turns to head back. She spots General Organa again, having just ended an exchange with Han Solo, and slows down before even deciding what exactly she was stopping for. Leia makes eye contact with her before she can change her mind to walk away.

“Hard to see them go, isn’t it?” The General’s eyes are distant. She watches Han Solo depart and for the second time Quesye sees the matronly kindness that was General Organa. She decides neither to agree or disagree, but rather admire the various people clamoring and suiting up in preparation for battle. It was hard to believe that she would be staying behind and not joining them.  
“I suppose there’s other ways to be useful.” The young woman says. Resigned to staying at the base, she hooks a finger around the hair band and pulls it, freeing the mass of curls to spill over her shoulders. Chestnut strays sprang free and she didn’t fight to tame them.  
“Ah,” General Organa let out a small noise at captures Quesye’s attention. The woman is staring at her hand. “I wondered what he needed a hair band for.”  
“I’m sorry?”  
“Finn. When you both first arrived, he approached me asking if I had anything to tie up hair with. It didn’t make much sense, considering he hasn’t much to tame,” Leia laughed, then shrugged. “But now I understand.”  
She swore she could feel the pace of her heart quicken. Quesye surveyed the grounds for any sign of Finn, but to no avail. The General gave her a pat on the arm, and Quesye looked down at the older woman whose mouth formed a small smile.  
“Wear it. I’ve learned that the up-do is very practical.” A token of advice, and soon she’s gone as well, surely off to more important endeavors.

 

Quesye ran her hands through her hair several times before tying it off near the crown of her head. It was much tighter than Finn’s style, but it hadn’t erased the memory of his fingers carving her soft coils into a ponytail. She wove quickly through the crowds of pilots and Resistance members until she spotted the Millennium Falcon and Finn tailing behind the others. A soft sense of déjà vu plagues her as she boards the ship. Like before, she was making a brash, life-changing decision that involved this junk metal ship. And there was no time to think about it.

But unlike before, her presence didn’t go hidden. Han, Chewie and Finn were surprised to see the ex-trooper aboard.  
“Glad you could make it,” Han beams, at it seems that he meant it. Chewie trills alongside him. Quesye smiled through her breathlessness and nods appreciatively.

Finn was open with disbelief. He stepped before her, face twisted, mouth hard. Han and his Wookie partner exchanged wary glances before carefully made their way into the cockpit.  
“We talked about this, Quesye.” That firm tone that she had only saw back at the cantine rose from his chest. What, did he feel betrayed? Quesye thought it served him right.  
“I know we did. And this is probably selfish - -“  
“It is selfish. If I don’t make it back, then who can help the others familiarize with the First Order? They won’t have a fighting chance with both of us gone.”  
“Finn, you can’t save everyone. I know you know that, and it’s why you’re so scared. It’s why you ran. But that’s not your job.”  
“We worked with their enemy. We helped them get this far. We have an obligation to protect them.” He said, voice rising. The ship's entrance platform began to seal shut. His eyes fell over her shoulders then back to her face. “Go back. We don’t have time for this.”  
“I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to do this together.” Finn paced the metal grated floors, running his hand over his face. She wanted to retreat, but she had to pretend that his dismal response didn’t hurt. “It’s not your choice it’s mine! Selfish or not it’s mine! I didn’t swear off of my title to do nothing but take orders again.”  
These words make him stop. His eyes drift, recalling something far from himself. Finn looks over, and the rigid expression has softened. “That wasn’t my intention.”  
“You’re making a mistake trying to shelter me. I know what happened to Rey. . . I know it tore you apart. I know you blame yourself, but you can’t. I know you feel guilty that you only wanted to run but you can’t. You’re going to lose people and you can’t control that. But this is a part of our choice to be free. Accept it. Right now.”  
“I can’t. Pretending that my actions have no consequence is a lie.” She was starting to wonder when did he start sounding like her.  
“I’m not asking you to lie. I’m asking you to forgive yourself, and to be realistic. You can’t save all of us. You can’t blame yourself for everything that goes wrong just because it ties into where you came from.” She reasoned that walking forward would distract him from the tremor in her legs. “Finn, you’ll destroy yourself.”  
“So what do I do? I make more selfish choices? I let everyone around me die?” He truly, genuinely wanted to know. This was all still very new to him, and it seemed that his selfish desire to be free of a dictating, blood-thirsty ruler caused more harm than good. What exactly was his alternative, here?  
“You trust us.” With no delay, it seemed the world suddenly made a little more sense for Quesye. The sincerity she felt when she looked up to him softened the hard edge in her voice. The piercing cloud of tension begins to fall apart. She didn’t want to argue. She came to reassure him. And her compromising tone almost sounds like his was, back in her room.  
“Trust me when I say I can take care of myself. I've gotten this far without needing you to hide me. We’ll get Rey back together. We’ll fight with the Rebellion together.”  
His eyes shut momentarily, and she was free to stare at his face, admiring small details before they opened again. It was hard to discern the emotions whirling in his eyes.  
“Thank you.” Though surprising, his thanks was a wonderful thing to hear. She smiles softly. “We should check in with Han.”

At the front of the ship the old man and his Wookie counterpart hovered over the control board. Finn approached the duo, inquiring on how, exactly, they would make their destination. When learning that the method was a lightspeed approach, Quesye steps further inside the cockpit and situated herself against the wall, bracing for acceleration. That familiar whirring started, and soon they were catapulting through space. There was the vision of white streaks in the air, their pathway, and then a flurry of white snow and barren black trees that snapped upon impact. Heinous shouting filled the Millennium Falcon that trembled, closing in on the ground.  
To forgo the risk of being seen, Han Solo lands roughly on the snowy terrain until they skid to a halt near a steep cliffside. The snowy mountains are quiet once the Millennium Falcon has crash-landed, and the ship’s crew proceeds to suit up.

“Here, kid.” Quesye turns to find Han offering her a puffy coat and a folded scarf with gloves. “You’ll frostbite before we get halfway there.”  
“Thank you,” She said, receiving his famously wry smirk in response. Quesye takes the snow wear and quickly slips inside of the coat, then recovered her blaster from a nearby shelf. While tying her scarf and slipping into her gloves, Quesye glanced over when she noticed Han speaking with Finn, who insisted that his jacket was all he needed. Han wasn’t convinced, telling by the look on his face, but Quesye was sure Finn knew himself well enough; their home was no warm furnace. Coldness was expected.

The trek was frigid. Quesye had meticulously wrapped her scarf around the lower half of her face to endure the flurry of snowflakes that tacked their bodies as they walked against the winds. It was a relief to make it closer to the base where the shadowy fortress stood bold against the white backdrop, rather a black blur several yards away from them, lost in the downpour of snow. She looked up at the bleak sky to see the streak of gold interrupting the off-gray canvas. The Starkiller was still charging, but the sun was bleak. They didn’t have much time.

Finn already voices a method to get inside, and Quesye had no opposition to the idea, but when Han asked about his former position in The First Order, likely wanting to affirm where his knowledge specialized in, his answer garnered a justifiably infuriated response.  
“Sanitation?” Sanitation. Quesye was certain. Han Solo was going to kill Finn. She groaned, holding her face in one hand.  
And so the truth comes out, and it’s new to all of them. Finn hasn’t the slightest clue in how to find and deactivate their shields. The main objective was, once again, to find Rey. Frustrated, she has no choice but to listen to the disappointed tone of a man who was, frankly, tricked into a mission he never signed up for. The world was counting on them. They galaxy was counting on them. How could he have been so stupid?

“Look, if we can get inside, we can find someone to direct us to one of the control centers that can disable the shields.” Quesye cut in. Not all hope was lost. They made it this far. They’d just have to improvise. It was a satisfying enough suggestion, and that with the biting cold was enough to start trekking off again. Finn looked at her and seemed to project some sort of gratitude, but she met him with a nasty glare that made him avert his eyes.

Once inside they three of them shed their coats and gloves and moved together, as stealthy as an armed group in clunky boots could manage. When Quesye wasn’t dislocating shoulders and cracking helmets, Han was blasting his way through the occasional surveying guard. These people wouldn’t have a clue with what to do sat before a control panel – they’d have to find someone more efficient. Finn had a brilliant idea as to who.

If it were a hundred years since she had to see that dark platinum suit again, Quesye would have still thought it wasn’t long enough. Lady Phasma had the misfortune of taking a stroll down the wrong corridors that evening, and after having to subdue a hyperactive Finn, she found herself sitting at a console littered with complicated functions that blinked and beeped. He had to know this wouldn’t be easy.

“QZ-4575, to say I’m surprised would be an understatement.” Out filters that mechanical voice. Her admonishing tone, in a sick way, sounded like home. It was all she knew and strove for, the acceptance of the most respected member of their fleet. And on many occasions she had it. Quesye was loyal, and the human desire for acceptance and love had burrowed itself in her desires to impress Phasma through her many years as a Stormtrooper. It was how she evaded conditioning, kept her identity. “To think you would so easily side with the enemy is disgraceful. I should have guessed there was a weakness to be found in your desire to please.”

Quesye merely shoves the barrel of her blaster against her helmet. “We’re on a tight schedule. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.” In a way she confesses something heartfelt in an otherwise detached display. This was hard. It was clear to her, now, that she had been forced on the wrong side of this fight, and yet it was still gut-wrenching to betray them. The people who raised her. It was them she had to thank for making her who she was, now. How could she do this?  
She left Phasma to Finn to be taunted, deciding that she had to center herself once more before blindly proceeding. The thought of choices and freedom struggle with the urgent concerns before her. She needed to step back to neutralize her emotions. The whirring sounds from the control board signal success, and distract her.

Lady Phasma shoots out of her seat to assure them that they won’t get far. Han and Finn ignore her rant and exchange ideas of how to, quite literally, dispose of her. Quesye doesn’t bother involving herself.

It wouldn’t be long before the Rebellion would come flooding down on the Starkiller base. Their window was open now. And while they commandeered that portion of the mission, they had to take what little time they had to rescue Rey.  
Corridors lead to more corridors. The place was expansive, but both Finn and Quesye had an idea on where Rey might have been – Ren’s torture chamber. He offered to brave storming in first, only requesting cover as he rushed ahead. She and Han Solo listened intently, but motions in the corner of their eyes had diverted their attention. Finn grew frustrated as Han tried to avert his attention until turning to see for himself that they had found the scavenger, scaling the walls just outside the window. Seeing the way his face lit up was bitter sweet, and Quesye focused more on the relief she felt that Rey was in one piece.

They ran around to meet her on the opposite side, rightfully startling her just as she inched around the corner they were running towards. She was okay. Her confusion was innocent. She didn’t understand why he was here. We came back for you. The Wookie corrected him, telling Rey that it was his idea. Quesye turned away before she let herself watch them embrace, swallowing hard. She would convince herself that it didn’t matter if it killed her.

Han urged them to move on, and just as Quesye started to follow the clatter of running feet it was Rey who took a moment to stop her. She gasped in surprise, and flushed when Rey drew her in for a hug as well.  
“Thank you, Quesye.” She whispered. That jealous knot festering in her chest ached, but she brought her arms around Rey and squeezed just as tight.  
“I’m so glad you’re safe.” The words came out before she could mull over them. Her voice was unfamiliarly warm. Another shout from Han. They broke apart. It was time to go.

As the doors sealed shut, Chewie hands over their coats and things and they quickly brace for a run in the snow once more. Outside, the Rebels exchange fire with TIE-Fighters, and both red and green beams rain down on the base. They wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.  
The thermal oscillator would need to take a more direct hit in order for the X-Wings to destroy the planet weapons’ core. Han Solo mentioned his arsenal of explosives, in which Rey offers to help them infiltrate yet another facility by damaging the security network needed to let them inside. The group splits, and Quesye decides to help set up the variety of explosives alongside Chewie and Han once they’re clear to enter the building. Paired off with the Wookie, Quesye holds onto the detonator as Chewie finishes with his last explosive.  
Aside from distant explosions and whistling aircrafts, the region is quiet. And when footsteps not belonging to any of them fill the room, it echoes loudly. Somewhere towards the pit of tall building, he’s arrived. She sees him before hearing Han shout out for him. Ren. Quesye shivers, stumbling to a halt at Chewbacca’s side at one of the higher platforms. No.  
Han slowly approaches the war lord, and once Rey and Finn enter from several flights above, a chilling silence takes over the enclosure.  
Han demands Ren remove his mask, and to her surprise, he obliges, and a pale man with raven-black hair emerges from the helmet. As they speak to each other, and the faint words she caught from Ren cracked, she wondered how the son of Han Solo and Leia Organa turned sides in such a way. Telling from his hesitation, and seeing the glint of a metal hilt fall into the hands of the older man, she reasoned that it was a hard transfer.  
Slowly, the starlight in the sky dims, and a deep shadow fills the space, brightening the crimson shades that filled the cracks and underbelly of the enclosed space of complex machinery and pipes. Hesitation lingers in the air. They watch with heart-gripping concentration.  
The violent thrum of his lightsaber activated and a red blade pierced Han Solo’s torso. There was a scream that bellowed from above their heads. Chewie made a trilling sound that shook Quesye to her core. Her hands trembled as she reached for her blaster. Chewie had already delivered a blast to Ren before she could fire at the enemy troopers that filed inside in defense. Chewie detonated the bombs and rattled everyone inside. Rey and Finn shot from above. The moments followed in pulses. Soon the black-clad man had disappeared, and she saw the tails of Rey’s shirt flutter out of sight.  
“Rey! Finn!” The three of them were gone. She shot blindly through hot tears, running alongside Chewie to serve as his defense in their bout against Stormtroopers. She couldn’t shake it. The sight of Han’s body crimpling against Ren’s saber. Him falling into an endless metal pit. Quesye let out a cry that melodied her fury and anguish. How could they let this happen? How could they support a man so callous?

It wouldn’t leave her mind. It kept playing on a painful loop, but her body performed ahead of her, numb to her brain’s grief. The burning in her legs felt faint. She rubbed her tears into her skin and kept pace with Chewie, who blasted through enemy defenses. The ship. They had to find Rey and Finn. Fear gripped her heart. Finn. What would Rey do to him? She spoke all that nonsense about trust and not blaming oneself but she’d never forgive herself if Finn. . .

The base was trembling under the impact of explosives and fire from the X-Wings. They had succeeded. Which meant they didn’t have much time. But thankfully she and Chewie had found their way inside the Millennium Falcon, and took to the skies. Not too far from their position, within the thick of blackened trees and cracked terrain, they would find them. Rey held what appeared to be a lifeless Finn in her arms. Quesye let out a scream and rushed to the entrance before it landed. The girl tumbled into the snow, falling to the ground before them.

How? The question rang in her head over and again, but she couldn’t discern if she was saying it out loud or not. Chewie lifted Finn from the ground with ease and they quickly rushed back inside the ship. Quesye breathes heavily through her mouth, trying to contain herself as she helps Finn onto the ships cot and scrambles for belt straps to secure him. The buckles clatters in her unsteady hands. Rey’s hands overlap hers in an effort to help. Quesye’s conscious retreats to basic instincts. She doesn’t know exactly who helped her to her seat, but she’s finally off her feet. Blasts from the Starkiller base light up behind them and push their space craft ahead. The trek back passes in a haze.


	11. May You Dream In Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quesye is consoled by those around her.

Back at the base, even bigger crowds fill the landing strip with cheerful faces and medical crews. One of them recover Finn, announcing a pulse despite his critical condition. Quesye lingers closely to the ship. Her legs felt useless. She’s rubbed her face raw, tear after tear. What method was there? She needed to get herself together. This was hardly even the worse news they would be delivering.

Not too far from where she stood, however, she sees Rey and General Organa embrace. She’s done the harder part, thank the Maker. She tentatively approaches, wanting to give her condolences. But just as they release each other, and Quesye fixes her mouth to speak, she makes the mistake of looking too closely into her eyes and the woman falls apart. The General held Quesye with a familiar nature that made breaking down that much easier. This was the risk she lectured about. Never did she guess she’d be on the receiving end of loss so soon.

Quesye decided to retire to her assigned room. She didn’t listen in on the conversations surrounding her, and to her relief many of the Rebels hadn’t disturbed her to praise or thank her. She didn’t want to be seen as a hero. She didn’t know what she was.  
Another shower to rub her skin raw. Peel away the layers of grief that hadn’t already seeped down into her bones. It was therapeutic, also, to rinse out the smell of smoke and ash. The thought of Rey passes her mind, but grief decides for her to leave the scavenger to Poe and the General. They would help her adjust to life here. She needed to numb herself. Find a method to turn off the flood of emotions that refused to quiet. When the hours past and the sky darkened, the celebrations continued. It didn’t matter. She had no intention of leaving her room for a while. Though she’s surprised when a knock at her door signals a visitor.  
Back in her clothes, she answers, and is surprised to find Rey waiting on the other side. She holds something close to her chest that she didn’t immediately recognize, but doesn’t hesitate to let her inside. The noise was too profound with the door open.

“I thought I’d bring you something to eat,” Rey said, removing the ration she held at her breast to place it on the end table by Quesye’s bed. “Figured you might be hungry.”  
Quesye glanced over at the food briefly. She wasn’t hungry. Not a bit. “Thank you.”  
The following silence between them was long. She didn’t feel strange, but the ex-trooper felt a shred of guilt for being closed mouth when Rey clearly wanted to look out for her. Seeing the girl starting to leave, she perks up.  
“Are you alright?” It’s the first thing she can come up with. Quesye genuinely wanted to make sure that she was alright, as a way of returning the favor for the times she looked out for her. “So much has happened. I just. . .”  
“This is the first time we’ve been able to stop.” Rey comments, voice lowered. Her eyes drift for a moment. She laughed softly. “I honestly don’t know what I feel, right now.”  
Quesye laughed with her. “Neither do I. Didn’t it feel easier to keep running? To have something force you to move on because you didn’t have a choice?”  
The ex-trooper worried, for the shortest second, that such a confession would be met with contempt. Maybe it was too crude. But Rey doesn’t object. The girl sits at the edge of her bed, nodding.  
“I haven’t had to feel this way about anyone for a very long time.”  
The ex-trooper considers for a moment. “This would be the first time, for me.” Quesye settles beside her. “Tell me about them. The people you knew before this. Your family. Did you have one?”  
Rey smiled, but glances down, rolling around her thoughts until decided to speak again. “Yes, but I was very little when they. . . When we were separated. I don’t remember much. A lot of my memories are tied to Niima outpost, unfortunately.”  
This doesn’t perturb Quesye. The woman of brown skin rests her chin in her palm, pivoting to face her. Rey laughs, but indulges her, expressing her resentment and gratitude for Unkar Plutt and the TEEDO’s, as well as the other desert scavengers she crossed paths with. It wasn’t an ideal childhood, but Quesye had no experience herself to judge. It sounded better than her own.  
She spoke about how she taught herself through scavenging for useful parts how to build her own craft for traveling, how she stumbled upon an abandoned Starfighter’s computer system that helped her to learn a variety of languages, and even a flight simulator that helped her harness the skill of flying space crafts. Rey mentioned her hobbies on the desert planet. Picking flowers, drawing, studying different languages. How clever, she was. Seeing her face brighten as she recalled funny memories and her proud accomplishments was the greatest distraction from her thoughts. A thought occurs to her, and her smile closes. Quesye sits up straight.  
“What is it?”  
“I started this journey regretting how far from Jakku I was. I’ve been waiting on them to come back, for a long time. And now, I have you and Finn to thank for everything that’s happened.”  
Quesye ignores the pang in her chest at the mentioning of the ex-trooper and smiles, nudging her. “It’s not like you should be grateful.”  
“No, really, I am. I’ve met some of the most wonderful people, and saw some of the most beautiful planets that I used to only dream about. I’m certain that without you and him, I’d still be on Jakku. Still waiting for something.”  
Quesye listened intently as she spoke, and didn’t cower when her hazel eyes found hers. Rey was immeasurably kind, and yet still strong. Quesye wanted that for herself. To be soft and resilient despite her shortcomings.  
“If it wasn’t for Finn, I’d still be in a white suit. Still following orders.” Confessed the girl. “We both have him to thank.”

Rey hummed in agreement, and they sat together quietly. Was it cliché of her to regret holding so much contempt for him now? She thought so, even though her anger was valid. She’d rather have him awake. She’d rather forgive him and let it all go to have him well again.  
The self-taught pilot and the former trooper rested their backs against the wall, sitting on her bed, and held each other’s hand while they talked and laughed, exchanging bits about each others’ past. Rey eased Quesye into talking about their adventure and Finn with humor, and they broke into voracious laughter about their friend and his quirks. Neither of them touched on the harder segments. The day he fled. The day they lost him. It was better to remember him in those brighter moments.  
When their conversation dwindled, laughter softening and tears dry, Quesye thanked her. It meant everything that she came to visit her, despite making no effort to be approachable.  
“You don’t have to be alone, you know, to cope.” Rey said. “We can manage together. There’s so many great people here. And I’m here, too.”  
Quesye squeezed her hand, patting it with the other. “I’m sorry. I’m still learning. We couldn’t really express ourselves outwardly with the Order. It’s all very strange.”  
“Good strange?”  
“Absolutely. I’d do everything again for this.” Her fingers press firm around Rey’s hand. They smile at each other.

Their conversations lessen to tired dribble as the hours past. It never occurred to either of them how late it was. They were too engrossed in speaking on the churning emotions that they didn’t have the luxury of addressing before. And when one began to cry, the other got misty eyed as well. They reflected off of each other until eventually dosing off.


	12. May The Force Be With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbyes and farewells aren't always forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this story and completed it back in the winter, and just wanted to at least publish the complete work. I really hope that you enjoyed it more than I enjoyed writing it. There's a part two to this that I've been working on since I finished this one that I might put on here soon. Thanks for reading!

In the time that passed as they lived on D’Qar with the Resistance, Quesye learned to be selective with her choices. Avoid the Medibay was the top of her list. It was hard during her mandatory visit where the staff ensured that she was free of any injuries, but she managed by following Rey’s advice and relying on her newfound friendships to stay afloat.  
Rey had told her that Finn would recover, she swore on it, explaining their intentions to fit him in some sort of regenerating suit. And with one of the most major threats to their safety subdued, for now, time was on their side. And it was all Finn needed.  
Rey suggested she not know the detail of his injury, or the way he was struck, but as days past and her trepidation lessened, it was easier to hear. She wanted to know. She needed to know, as well, what happened to Ren. There was a chance that he survived, Rey said. We’ll just have to wait and find out. Her menacing intent was delivered so levelly.

R2-D2, the inactive droid, had miraculously woken up, and with the entire map together, a series of conversations and time passed had led to Rey’s decision to find him. it would turn out that she was a Jedi, and it seemed only appropriate as they assessed their damage and losses, recovered, that she would spend her time, hopefully, receiving the proper training she needed.  
It would be hard to say goodbye to someone so dear to her. Quesye and Rey had stuck so closely to each other since their return from Starkiller. Rey had helped Quesye to understand her many levels of grief, as Quesye comforted the hollow feeling of abandonment that ached inside of Rey. Would she be alright going alone? Would Luke be kind to her? Would he know how to comfort her if or when she faltered? When would she come back?

“I don’t know,” Rey confessed. Quesye had adopted that small, endearing nature of Rey’s outspokenness. She prodded with questions, most of which she had no sure answer for. Quesye kept pushing small, miscellaneous items inside of Rey’s satchel when she wasn’t looking, in which Rey would only carefully remove whatever collections she tried stuffing in her bag. It humored her, the way the ex-trooper worried, but she was sure Quesye would drive herself crazy.  
“I am going to be fine! It’s you I’m worried about. Could you please stop over-stuffing my bag?”  
“You need to be prepared,” She tried to say sternly, but turned away when Rey lofted a brow at her. “Should I not be concerned? This isn’t summer camp.”  
“I will be fine. If you’re that worried, come with me. Chewie and R2 will be there. You can see me off.”  
“I. . . I’m needed here.” Her pacing around the room slowed. Quesye kept her back to Rey, trying to collect herself before facing her again. The concerned scavenger stood closer, looking at her warily. She held out her hand, and Quesye takes it, squeezing.  
“He’s in good hands. Chewie will bring you right back. Promise.”

Quesye nodded. Rey had been the one able to stomach daily visits, chatting with the nurses about his progressing health. The former trooper, however, avoided visits, and hadn’t strayed far from the base. She didn’t know how to rationalize it, but she didn’t challenge the fear that gripped her at the thought of being too far. Rey hadn’t pushed her past her comfort zone, but she understood that she would have to break the awful spell of anxiety soon.

A final visit. Quesye stood on the outside of the curtain while Rey spoke endearingly to the comatose Finn. Their friend. Rey returned to her side, and seeing her stand before her in her near gear, brave as she met her and stronger than before, Quesye felt compelled to be just as strong. She steps aside, and carefully walked behind the curtain.

She didn’t think she was ready to see him again like that. But at least here, he looked at peace. His complexion was still warm with life. All of the times Rey mentioned his progress couldn’t compare to seeing it for herself for the first time since their return. Quesye quietly approaches his cot, and sits beside him. She searched his face. How she missed him. His pouting top lip when he spoke. How she took for granted being able to look into those dark eyes. How long would it take? Quesye knew, no matter how long, she would wait. She would grow stronger and leave behind the soft layers of her former self for someone better. She and Rey would greet him to a world that knows peace.  
Quesye reaches out to touch him, hesitating for a beat before gently running her fingertips along the texture of his black hair. “I shouldn’t have waited this long to visit.”  
Silence. Complicated machines hummed in the far distance. Her lips part to speak, but for a moment or so, nothing comes. She clears her throat. “It wasn’t my decision, at first, to be here. To join the Resistance. But if you can hear me – even if you can’t, I’ll say it a thousand times more when I can see you smile again – Finn. I choose you.  
It doesn’t matter if I was forced into it. You’ll come back, and Rey and I will be here to guide you every step of the way. Together. All of us.”

Quesye paused. She blinks feverishly to subdue potential tears and took a deep breath. Her fingers made a path along the shape of his face. A curse-stricken prince, trapped in his sleep. No kiss would stir him, she understood, but she pressed her lips at the corner of his eye regardless. Rey waited patiently for her return, and brought an arm around her shoulders to guide her outside of the base.

The Millennium Falcon stood in wait before a large crowd of people. Rey approached General Organa to say her farewells, and following behind her, Quesye gives a comforting squeeze to her shoulder. The General dressed in blue and hair meticulously done was a beautiful sight to see. With war not so imminent, the people could afford to take time in their appearance, and it was a great joy to both see and take part in. Rey sported an open, soft gray vest and matching sleeves, and the neutral tones looked amazing on her. She had managed to convince Quesye into a sleeveless maroon turtleneck and midnight black bottoms, and even fashioned her hair in an intricate up-do. Something she claimed she learned from the General herself, who specialized in such styles.

A crowd full of vibrant colors and smiling faces surrounded the ship. Resistance members cheered and spoke their farewells and best wishes, and it made Quesye happy to see how much they poured their support into Rey. She boarded the ship for the first time in what felt like ages, admiring the clean surfaces and the familiar comfort it hosted. Quesye exchanged a cheery hello with R2-D2 before settling in a chair at the cockpit behind Rey and Chewie. They slowly ascended the sky, and cruised leisurely from the base. Rey punched in the necessary coordinates before shifting the ship into hyper drive.

A planet that looked mostly composed of water rotated before their glass shield. Unlike their many other trips inside the Falcon, their landing is soft, and not before perusing the scattered islands with tall and lush hills and black-rock underbellies occasionally jutting through the grass.

The hillside they land underneath of is intimidatingly steep, but Rey seemed unperturbed, setting her staff and satchel into place in preparation for her climb. Quesye doesn’t impose a parting hug, but is flooded with relief when Rey turns to her and throws her arms around her. Rey flung her weight against hers, but it barely moves Quesye an inch. She buries her face into the shoulder of her gray vest, hardly noticing how tightly some of her curly strands tucked under Rey’s arms. They pull apart to smile at each other, and laugh when they see the gloss in each other's eyes.

“May the force be with you.” Quesye whispered, pressing her palms to Rey’s pink round cheeks. They both appear reluctant to let go, but when they eventually do both of the girls have bright looks on their faces. Hope. The heart-aching loss could only mean that there was room for gain. For growth. And here they were, blooming together in the wild garden that was space and time. Quesye waited faithfully as Rey scaled the hillside, relieved to see that she made it over the edge safely. And stood patiently when she disappeared. Chewie growled in her direction. He thought it was time to take her back. She nods and slowly boards the ship. Her eyes never leave the scattered island, wanting to burn it into her memory forever.


End file.
